Alaric woke up slowly, his senses swimming in a sea of warmth and a deep, bone-deep satisfaction.
His first sensation: he was still buried deep inside Elaine's tight, motherly pussy. She was warm, wet, and clenched around him even in her exhausted, borderline-comatose sleep. It was a nice, snug, welcome home feeling.
His second sensation: his left arm was draped over Queen Kate, his hand completely cupping one of her massive, soft breasts. She was purring in her sleep, a low, contented rumble like a big cat full of cream.
The two royal women were out cold. Not just sleeping. Wrecked. Draped over him, under him, tangled in the sheets like discarded, beautiful puppets. They were completely, utterly spent.
He smirked, his eyes still closed. 'Good morning, Your Majesties.'
